


Best Laid Plans

by _Melodic_ (Sae)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sae/pseuds/_Melodic_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus has heard, for years, how terrible the Malfoys are and the damage Draco Malfoy has done to his family. When he decides to take matters into his own hands, and find a way to exact revenge on Draco, he doesn’t expect the feelings and desire that unexpectedly bloom and threaten to overcome him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you chickenpumpkin for such a beautiful prompt, I just had to snatch it up the moment I saw it. I do hope you enjoy what I did with it! And many thanks to my wonderful beta, llaeyro for her help on this story.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus restocks the Tiny Twisters on display, the items being snatched by eager customers the second he places them down. It’s utterly chaotic in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, people milling about, arms full of products as they chat excitedly with one another. The grand re-opening, after the recent renovation, has brought in a large and lively crowd and Albus now understands why Uncle Ron and Uncle George were so desperate to have the family here to help.

“Excuse me, sir.” A little girl tugs on Bill’s shirt. “Do you know where I can find the Pygmy Puffs?”

“Of course,” Bill replies warmly, crouching down to speak with the child.

He opens his mouth to continue when the little girl looks Bill directly in the face with large, watery eyes before screaming. The girl’s mother rushes over from the other end of the aisle asking her if she is okay as her daughter sniffles and shakes.

“It was the scary face,” the girl sobs as she allows herself to be swooped up by her mother.

The woman looks up at Bill, just barely hiding a flinch, as she blandly apologises for the scene her daughter caused. Bill puts on a brave face and waves off the incident but Albus is certain he’s more affected than he’s letting on. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has stared, pointed, or gasped in his direction when they lay eyes on the deep scars across his face. Bill has likely gotten used to it. Fleur always tells him they are jealous of how dangerous and rugged he looks, but it still pains Albus to see how others react to his uncle.

It must have been such a frightening ordeal. No one ever really likes to talk about it—least of all with him and his cousins—but Albus has put enough pieces together to figure out what happened. He knows who was technically at fault, Fenrir Greyback, but the real person to blame is Draco Malfoy. 

Albus has always been a bit quieter than his rambunctious siblings and cousins and thus he’s easy to look over in a large setting. Many times he remains at the table, unnoticed, as his mum, dad and uncles discuss the war and the traumas that occurred in their wake. More often than not, Malfoy’s name gets brought up and Albus’s blood boils at hearing the sort of pain one person has caused his family. It seems, even with the war behind them, the ghosts of the past still remain, haunting each of them in their own way. His dad still has vivid nightmares, his mum often gets a far away look on her face, easily startled when someone breaks her trance, and Uncle Bill still wears the scars from his gruesome attack.

Albus always feels so helpless in those times, wanting to do something active and concrete to heal his family’s pain. Now that he’s older and lives away from home, he feels even more responsible for finding a way to soothe the hurt of the past, impossible as it may seem. He sighs to himself and does his best to push away such thoughts as he goes to the backroom for more products.

{}-{}-{}-{}

It’s several hours later when the shop finally closes up and Albus steps out into the dusky streets. The family makes their way over to Sugarplum’s (George has promised everyone a treat for helping out today) but Albus isn’t overly fond of sweets and decides to enjoy the cool spring air outside the shop.

He spots a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, disappearing down a side road, as Ron angrily chases after Rose. His cousin scowls and stomps away, looking just as infuriated as she moves towards the store.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from him?”

“Dad.” Rose whips around to face her father, eyeing him furiously. “You’re overreacting, he’s my friend. And I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t tell me what to do! I think I’m capable of making my own decisions now.”

Ron begins to sputter angrily and Albus can’t help but feel a little sorry for Rose. It’s certainly not the first time the two of them have argued over her friendship with Scorpius but each disagreement is always more explosive than the last. He can’t blame his uncle though; it’s true, the Malfoy’s are a rotten bunch. He’s never really gotten to know Scorpius—the two had kept their distance in Hogwarts—but he is still the son of Draco Malfoy and the grandson of Lucius Malfoy. The stories Albus has heard of that man make his blood run cold.

Rose’s face is flushed with anger, her eyes bright and animated as she glares at her father. “He’s nothing like his father! Stop comparing the two of them!”

Hermione, clearly sensing their disagreement is escalating quickly, hurries out of the shop through the open door and into the street. 

“Rose, why don’t you go pick out some chocolates with your brother,” Hermione offers gently.

Rose opens her mouth stubbornly, ready to say more, but one pointed look from her mother and she sighs and walks inside.

“Ron,” Hermione begins.

“Oh, please don’t tell you’re going to defend that slimy git too,” Ron groans dejectedly.

“No,” Hermione responds lightly, “But I do think you should let it go, for our daughter’s sake at the very least.”

“How can I?” Ron huffs. “I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Malfoy should have been locked up in Azkaban with the rest of them.”

“I think that might be a little harsh,” Hermione retorts.

Ron makes a disgruntled noise and Albus can’t help but agree with his uncle once again. From the stories he has heard about Malfoy and his past crimes, a brief house arrest and some war reparations hardly seems a fitting punishment.

“Come now,” Hermione murmurs softly, “Why don’t we go and get a nice bottle of wine while the kids finish picking their sweets.”

“Fine,” Ron mutters, surrendering to Hermione as she wraps her arm around his waist and steers him across the street.

Albus balls his hands into fists as he watches them leave, fingernails biting into the soft flesh of his palm. It always seems to come down to the same thing when he thinks of the pains his family has endured… Always the same person. Draco Malfoy should suffer for the wrongs he has committed, regardless of how long ago they occurred. Someone needs to make him pay, and Albus is starting to think that someone should be him.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus makes another note in the margins of his book as he cross references the origins of the crocus sativus. He’s quite certain this specific species is crucial in creating a sustainable environment for the more particular plants in the crocus genus.

The last few weeks have gone by in a blur and Albus has often found himself nose first in a book as he researches the iridaceae family. Professor Longbottom reached out to Albus recently to assist him in a new project of transplanting exotic plant-life to the Hogwarts greenhouses and Albus was only too eager to agree. He had the good fortune of being accepted into a traveling herbology program straight out of school and learned quite a bit in the following year under the tutelage of Professor Kirby. Albus’s knowledge of foreign plants may be rather vast after his thorough studies but he still felt quite humbled when Professor Longbottom contacted him. 

He’s determined to not let him down, though it is rather difficult to concentrate with his brother humming loudly on the sofa across from him, idly thumbing through a Quidditch magazine. It’s times like these that he often wonders what made him think sharing a flat with James was a good idea. Though, Albus has to admit, it is nice to have his brother around, especially as he is often away when the season starts up. During that time it’s just Albus and Teddy, and Teddy is definitely a more considerate roommate than his brother tends to be. 

“James,” Albus sighs softly, “Can you keep it down a bit?”

“What are you talking about?” James furrows his brow, looking up from his magazine. “I’m not doing anything.”

Albus is ready to carefully explain how singing under his breath and drumming his fingers on the glossy pages of the magazine is certainly _something_ when the door to their flat opens.

“Welcome home!” James grins as he places the magazine down, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“You’re in a good mood.” Teddy smiles warmly, pressing a kiss to the top of James’s head as he sits next to him on the sofa. “Hey, Al.”

“Teddy,” Albus greets in return, setting his book on the floor next to his chair. He doesn’t imagine he’ll be getting any more work done this afternoon.

“Where have you been?” James leans into Teddy as he throws his arm around his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“At the Manor, having the usual monthly tea with Grandma and Draco.” Teddy rolls his eyes playfully. “As I told you this morning before I left.” 

Albus always found it a bit odd that Andromeda was so quick to forgive her sister and make amends. He heard that shortly after the war the two of them patched things up, regardless of their vastly different lifestyles and beliefs. It was stranger still that Teddy wound up forming some kind of relationship with his cousin, Draco, even though Teddy insists they aren’t extremely close or anything.

“How was it?” James asks.

“The usual,” Teddy replies, summoning a bottle of beer from the kitchen. “Draco seems to be in better spirits.” James blinks at him blankly and Teddy sighs in reply. “Remember I told you he seemed a bit lonely after the breakup.”

“Mmm,” James mutters distractedly, attention already back on his magazine.

“Breakup?” Albus asks. “I didn’t know Malfoy was seeing anyone.”

“Why would you?” Teddy raises an eyebrow. “Draco’s fairly private, you wouldn’t have seen them out and about.”

“Was he ashamed of her or something?”

“No, not exactly.” Teddy replies carefully.

“So…” Albus pries. “What was the issue?”

“There was no issue. I think they just had a distant relationship to start with and they hardly ever saw each other, so they decided to call it off. Draco never seemed like he was head over heels for Brandon in any case.” 

“Brandon?” Albus asks, leaning forward. “Wait, Malfoy’s gay?”

“Oh,” Teddy mumbles looking abashed. “Well, yes… but you really can’t say anything. It’s not my secret to tell.”

“So he’s hiding his sexuality?” Albus asks, interest piqued.

“Not exactly,” Teddy takes a sip of his beer. “He doesn’t really hide it from his family or close friends but I wouldn’t say he’s entirely out to the public. I think he’s a bit afraid of the reaction he would get.”

“Why?” James chimes in, peering over the magazine. “Everyone was pretty accepting of us when we came out.”

“I think it’s just different.” Teddy shrugs. “Malfoy still belongs to the world of more traditional families that aren’t quite as open. Most of his potions business is with old, pureblood Wizards who might frown upon that sort of thing. And besides, he wasn’t exactly welcomed back to society with open arms after the war. Even if the wizarding world is generally open to homosexuality, they would use anything to tear him down and cast him out. A lot of people are still angry over the past and Draco likes to lay low and stay out of the public eye.”

“Yeah, well maybe he deserves to be cast out,” James mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey,” Teddy scolds affectionately as he ruffles James’s hair. “Draco may be far from perfect but he’s still my cousin and he’s really not as bad as you think.”

James shrugs in response, picking up his magazine again and sinking further against Teddy’s side. Albus shuffles through his notes but finds he can hardly concentrate. He’s been so busy lately, he nearly had forgotten about his plans for revenge. This new information has lit a fire in him and various ideas and plans begin to swirl and formulate in his head.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus decides his first step is to get into Malfoy’s head. The only way to seduce the older man, in order to expose him, is to understand what makes him tick; what his likes and dislikes are and what his life is like in general.

Albus has never been more grateful for his father’s generosity in handing over his invisibility cloak to be shared by James, Teddy and himself. The cloak has been tremendously useful in following Draco around Diagon Alley for the last few weeks, enabling him to get close enough to listen in on conversations and discover all the little details of Malfoy’s life.

As it turns out, his day to day life is less exciting than Albus had anticipated. There was a part of Albus that was hoping he might discover some deep secret, some evil doings or associations, as he carefully stalked Malfoy. Albus thought if he could report and expose him for clearly breaking the law he could avoid having to go through this seduction route, but he’s determined all the same. A little flirting and a brief sexual encounter is all Albus needs, and it’s a price he is willing to pay for his end goal.

In fact, his days of following Malfoy haven’t been a complete waste. He now knows that Malfoy has business with several shops throughout the city, selling his rare potions at a fairly high price. Albus delights in the snickers and whispers after Draco leaves the stores; it’s clear the owners are glad for the product but care not for their supplier. He is certain it will be easy to use their evident disdain to his advantage in the future.

Albus also learned that Malfoy is a fanatic for sweets. He takes copious amounts of sugar in his tea and always purchases a pastry to go along with it, the shiny dough dripping with icing. He goes to Rosa Lee Teabags every Monday after dropping off his potions, sitting at a quiet table in the corner while he savours his tea and sweets. On Thursdays it seems Malfoy likes to mostly browse, purchasing a small bag of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor before walking idly down the road and peering into the various stores.

This Thursday Albus leaves the cloak at home, takes extra care to style his hair, and waits by Mary’s Chestnuts. He watches Malfoy approach, waiting until his purchase is nearly complete, and feigns a loose cobble in the road, falling directly against Malfoy. The bag of chestnuts fall from Malfoy’s hand, scattering across the ground, and Albus quickly straightens up, painting a look of horror on his face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Albus cries out. “How embarrassing, I must have not been paying attention. Please let me buy you another one.”

Malfoy watches with wide eyes, taking in the scene before him, and only seems to come back to himself when Albus hands the fresh chestnuts over.

“Mr Malfoy,” Albus grins widely as if he’s just noticed who the person before him is.

“Hello,” Malfoy replies warily.

“It’s Albus Severus, sir. I went to school with your son.”

“Albus, right.” Malfoy frowns slightly. “You’re Potter’s son.”

“Yes,” Albus replies brightly, leaning closer to Malfoy. “I feel really terrible about tripping into you like that. Maybe I can buy you a coffee to make up for it.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Malfoy replies blandly, looking over Albus’s shoulder.

“Really, it would be my pleasure,” Albus purrs, tilting his head to catch Malfoy’s eye. “I could go for something warm and sweet right about now.”

“I need to get going.” Malfoy’s gaze finally settles on Albus, brow furrowed as he looks him up and down. “Excuse me.”

Albus lets out a disappointed sigh as he watches Malfoy make his way down the street and out of sight. Maybe he came on a little too strong, or perhaps not strong enough, but it’s no matter. Albus is nothing if not determined and he decides he’ll just have to try harder next time.

{}-{}-{}-{}

“So when did Malfoy start selling potions? Does he have a lab at the Manor or does he brew somewhere else?”

“I think a few years after war,” Teddy replies as he puts the kettle on. “He has a pretty impressive lab at the Manor. He used to let me watch him work when I was younger.”

“Does he have an assistant or anything? He seems like he’s a bit of a recluse.” Albus asks avidly, resisting the temptation to take notes.

“Not that I know of.” Teddy shrugs and sits at the table.

“And that ex you mentioned before, does he—”

“Whoa.” Teddy holds up his hand. “What’s with this sudden interest in Draco?”

“It’s nothing,” Albus rushes out, flushing as Teddy raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay, honestly I’ve heard about how rare his potions are, that he has access to a lot of exotic ingredients. I’ve just been curious since I’ve been working on this project with Professor Longbottom.”

“I see,” Teddy replies, seeming to buy his explanation. “Well, Draco gets most of his herbs and flowers directly from the Manor. He has really extensive gardens with a wide variety of plant life.”

“Does he have any dangerous—”

“Hey,” Teddy interrupts. “Instead of interrogating me with questions I’m sure I don’t know the answer to, why don’t you join me for our next monthly tea? You can come along and ask him yourself.”

“Sure, that would be fine,” Albus replies mildly, hiding a smile behind his hands.

He had only hoped to gain some useful information about Malfoy and his past from Teddy but this is much better. Albus is certain he can expedite his plan once he’s face to face with Malfoy again. The pieces are all coming together, one bit at a time.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus fidgets with his shirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles as Teddy, Andromedea and himself walk up the path to Malfoy’s door. He did his best to dress especially well today, wearing deep emerald green to bring out his eyes and form fitting jeans that hug his arse in all the right places. His heart thuds nervously against his chest as a house elf leads them through the door and into the sitting room. He has but a moment to take in the airy opulence of the Manor before Malfoy sweeps into the room and greets them. Malfoy seems a bit surprised at finding him here, and Albus wonders if Teddy bothered to inform Malfoy of his presence, but the blond quickly schools his expression and offers them a seat.

Malfoy doesn’t look half bad out of the stuffy robes he normally shops in. He’s wearing light trousers and a fitted button up, the top few buttons loose and exposing his pale, long neck. The navy colour contrasts nicely with his silvery hair which is longer on the top, artfully swept back and off to the side. Albus is surprised to discover that Malfoy is actually rather good looking, but he quickly casts that thought aside, realising it’s rather irrelevant to his mission.

They all make polite small talk as they drink their tea and, despite Albus’s best efforts to catch Malfoy’s eye, Malfoy seems to steadily ignore him. Albus finds himself getting frustrated and then just merely bored as he stares out the window while the others talk around him. He’s rather lost in thought when he notices Teddy is talking directly to him.

“Sorry, what?” Albus asks, flushing when he realises they are all looking at him.

“I was telling Draco about your interest in his garden.”

“Right, yes.” Albus sits up straight and looks directly at Malfoy. “Teddy mentioned you grow all your own herbs and flowers for potions right here at the Manor. I’ve been studying herbology for the last few years and am really impressed that you’ve created a sustainable ecosystem for the exotic plants.”

“Well,” Malfoy replies, eyes lighting up with interest, “It did take quite some time to get the environment right but once you find the proper balance between spells and natural atmosphere it's possible to grow nearly anything in a controlled environment.”

“I imagine it was a lot of work, but rewarding as well,” Albus responds, realising he’s honestly rather impressed. 

“I’d be happy to give you a little tour,” Malfoy offers, clearing his throat as he looks over to Teddy and Andromeda. “If you all are interested that is.”

“That does sound lovely, dear.” Andromedea stretches as she rises out of her chair. “But I must say I am a little tired today.”

“I’ll take you home.” Teddy walks over and offers his arm to her. 

“I’d love to see the gardens, if the offer still stands,” Albus says coyly, snatching the opportunity that has presented itself.

“Oh.” Malfoy casts an uncertain glance over at Albus. “Of course. Certainly.”

They say their goodbyes to Teddy and Andromeda and walk together down the path and to the great span of gardens behind the Manor. Albus is completely taken aback; he’s seen many beautiful and exotic gardens in his travels but nothing as meticulous as this. The land seems to go on for ages, row after row of various plant life and flowers, each with a neat little post identifying the name and species. To the left are several large greenhouses, the translucent glass exposing multitudes of exotic potted plants, vines and trees.

“This is… impressive,” Albus murmurs, following Malfoy down a stone path and towards the expansive rose garden.

“This was my mother’s garden.” Malfoy smiles wistfully. “She loved all flowers but roses were her favourite. My father used to always scold her for getting her hands dirty and nurturing them herself. He felt that was the house elves’ duty, but she loved it out here. I would watch her as a child and she would tell me the names of all the species and hybrids in the garden.”

Albus watches Malfoy’s face light up as he speaks of his mother, his expression so serene he almost looks like a child again. Malfoy turns to glance at Albus and the spell breaks, his pale cheeks flush slightly and he looks away, intently studying a bush of damasks. Albus inhales deeply and steels his nerves; listening to Malfoy wax poetic about his gardens and family has nearly distracted him from his mission but he cannot allow himself to be deterred from his course.

“These roses have a very strong fragrance,” Malfoy lectures, voice steady and scientific again. “They’re most commonly used in perfumes.”

Malfoy reaches towards the bush to pluck a single flower but he swiftly pulls his hand back and hisses under his breath. A small drop of blood pools on the pad of fingertip as Malfoy frowns and holds his hand out in front of him.

“Here, let me,” Albus murmurs, stepping forward.

Malfoy’s eyes widen as Albus grabs his hand and wraps his lips around the bleeding digit. He gently sucks on the tip of Malfoy’s finger, lips brushing the skin as he lifts his mouth away, his hand still gripping Malfoy’s wrist.

Albus offers him a shy smile and Malfoy seems to come back to himself, pulling his hand away quickly.

“I’d like to see more of your gardens,” Albus purrs, moving closer until he is mere inches away from Malfoy.

“I think you’ve seen enough for today,” Malfoy replies shortly, taking a step back.

“I’ve hardly seen anything though,” Albus whispers, hand reaching out to play with Malfoy’s collar.

“Don’t,” Malfoy rebukes sternly, hand catching Albus’s and pushing it away.

“But—”

“No.” Malfoy’s eyes are steely as they glare at Albus, challenging him to argue again.

Albus opens his mouth but no words form; he knows when to admit defeat. With a hearty sigh he gives Malfoy one last searching look before turning around and walking away. It appears Malfoy is more of a challenge than he anticipated but Albus won’t give up so easily.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus arrives at the Manor the very next day (his studious observations of Malfoy’s schedule assure him Malfoy will be home) and is ushered inside by a confused looking house elf. She informs Albus that Malfoy was not expecting any visitors but that he can wait in the sitting room for him.

Albus only waits a few minutes before Malfoy enters the room, looking cautious and even a bit nervous.

“Albus, can I help you?”

“I just wanted to apologise for yesterday,” Albus begins, doing his best to look abashed. “It was very inappropriate of me and I’m sorry if I offended you. I really am in awe of your gardens and would love to see more of them.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Please, Mr Malfoy,” Albus pleads. “I never even got to see the protocarnivorous plants, and I was really looking forward to seeing your collection.”

Malfoy presses his lips together tightly, eyes examining Albus thoroughly before he finally sighs and consents.

“Fine. I need to collect some asphodel anyway for a commissioned potion. I suppose you can come along.”

Albus grins widely and follows Malfoy out into the gardens. The walk is silent, but not uncomfortably so, as Albus once again takes in the impressive collection of plants, flowers and herbs. Malfoy slows his stride as they reach the liliaceae section, crouching down to pluck several asphodels. Albus moves around in silent wonder, looking at all the beautiful flowers when he comes across a little plot of plants that have yet to bloom.

“Why have these not bloomed yet?” Albus asks, bending over to find the sign with the flower’s name.

“Ah, those are a very special plant I’ve tinkered with myself,” Draco explains moving towards Albus. “It’s an epiphyllum hybrid and they only bloom at night, during a full moon. They are quite delicate, they bloom at night and perish by morning, but their petals are extremely potent.”

“Wow.” Albus breathes, looking closer to examine the intricate markings on the bulbs.

“They are rather beautiful when they bloom,” Malfoy says proudly. “The rich fragrance is quite captivating and the petals appear to glow from the moonlight.”

“I imagine it’s an extraordinary sight,” Albus says wistfully, realising he means it sincerely.

“It is,” Malfoy sighs happily, adjusting the flowers in his hand. “I do need to get these inside and into a cooler environment to prepare them for grinding.”

“Oh, of course,” Albus replies, slightly disappointed.

“If you’d like, you can come in with me and have a quick pot of tea before you go back home.”

“Yes.” Albus smiles gratefully. “That would be nice.”

Albus follows Malfoy back into the Manor, watching him place the flowers in a spell-controlled cooling box before bringing them into the sitting room. The house elves have already set up the table, a large pot sitting before them, the cups already filled to the brim with the fragrant, steaming tea. Albus lifts one of the cups, blowing gently on the surface, eyes trained on Malfoy as he sits across from Albus and picks up his own cup.

“Do you have any honey for the tea?”

Malfoy nods, lifting a small jar beside the tea pot and handing it over. Albus takes the jar slowly, ensuring their fingers brush in the exchange but only receives a warning look in response. 

“Thank you,” Albus murmurs, taking a large spoonful and letting it drip into his tea cup, purposely allowing a little to spill onto his fingers.

Malfoy’s eyes follow Albus’s fingers as he places them into his mouth, obscenely sucking away the stickiness, making noises of pleasure as he does so. Malfoy’s expression darkens and he willfully looks away, continuing to ignore Albus as he licks his spoon suggestively to remove the leftover traces of honey.

“About that night-blooming hybrid you created…”

“Yes?” Malfoy asks warily.

“I’d really like to see it,” Albus remarks, rushing on when he senses Malfoy is about to interrupt him. “It’s so fascinating to me and we never got to see any night-blooming plants in action during my studies. I would really love to come back and see it firsthand.”

Malfoy chews his lips, reluctance clearly painted over his face as he considers Albus’s request. He’s clearly hesitant, and woefully resistant to Albus’s advances thus far, but eventually he nods in agreement.

“Alright,” Malfoy sighs wearily. “The following Friday evening is the next full moon. You’re welcome to join me when I collect the petals.”

“Thank you.” Albus smiles brightly, taking note of the pleased flush that spreads across Malfoy’s cheeks.

Slow and steady wins the race, after all.

{}-{}-{}-{}

“Watch your step,” Malfoy warns as they make their way through the gardens, only the bright glow of the moon lighting their path.

Albus smiles to himself at Malfoy’s concern, being sure to tread carefully as they approach the epiphyllum section. Albus arrived this evening full of nerves and anticipation, the tension in his chest increased by the dark, crisp night surrounding them. Albus is certain that Malfoy is attracted to him, at least a little bit. He can see it in the way Malfoy’s eyes follow his movements, his hands, his lips and the way they quickly dart away soon afterwards. Albus isn’t quite sure why Malfoy is fighting against it so much but Albus knows he can’t resist forever.

“Here, have a seat,” Malfoy offers, sitting down himself in front of the closed buds. “They should begin to bloom any minute now.”

Albus settles next to Malfoy, making sure to sit close enough that their knees slightly touch. He can sense Malfoy stiffen slightly but he makes no effort to move. The air is thick and full of tension as the steady moonlight pours over the soft grass and surrounding plants. Albus sneaks a look at Malfoy and finds him wholly concentrated on the buds before him, an expression of rapt anticipation painted over his face.

Albus turns back towards the buds and gasps slightly, eyes widening excitedly as they slowly start to bloom, vines quivering gently as they reach towards the sky. The petals erupt from the buds, pale yellow transforming into a translucent white, the contrasting shades glittering in the soft light of night. It’s perhaps one of the most beautiful things Albus has ever seen. His heart thuds fiercely against his chest as he looks over to Malfoy, struck by the look of wonder on his face. Malfoy looks divine bathed in moonlight, his hair lit brightly around him like a halo, slate eyes glimmering with emotion. Albus is compelled by the sight; there is no question that is the moment he’s been waiting for. Albus leans forward and cradles Malfoy’s jaw with his hand, his eyes fluttering closed. He hears Malfoy inhale deeply, his lips merely an inch away, when he is swiftly pushed back. Malfoy is breathing heavily, his jaw tight and an inscrutable expression forming on his face. Albus reaches out again only to have his wrist caught in mid-air by Malfoy’s swift reflexes.

“Albus,” Malfoy warns. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Albus asks, mesmerized by the flicker of emotion in Malfoy’s eyes.

“It’s not a good idea,” Malfoy replies firmly. He stands up turns away from Albus, studying the flowers and casting a few spells to ready them for picking.

“I suppose I should go home then…” Albus trails off reluctantly.

“Yes,” Malfoy replies quietly, back still facing Albus, “That would be best.”

Albus rises off the ground, brushing off a few damp strands of grass sticking to his trousers. He gazes at Malfoy’s rigid back before making his way towards the Apparition point outside the gates, an unexpected ache of rejection settling into his bones.

{}-{}-{}-{}

“You really should cut your hair,” Albus remarks cheekily as he takes a sip of beer.

“I like it long,” James pouts turning to look over at Teddy. “Don’t you?”

“It has it merits,” Teddy teases, fingers threading through James’s thick locks and pulling gently.

James chuckles, resting his head on Teddy’s shoulder as Teddy continues to stroke his fingers through James’s hair. Albus smiles at the two of them, returning his attention to his Herbology Digest, flipping through the pages halfheartedly.

Albus had worried he would be somewhat of a third-wheel when the three of them rented this flat together but generally he’s found they are all close in their own way. His brother and Teddy’s relationship never made him feel like an outcast. There are times though, like today, where he can’t help but glance at the two wistfully and feel a sharp pang in his chest. 

Albus has had boyfriends in the past, casual flings here and there, but he’s yet to find someone he really clicks with. He can’t help but sometimes be a bit envious of James and Teddy, how perfectly the two fit into each other's lives, the connection they clearly share. Work keeps Albus rather busy but he does find himself feeling lonely from time to time. He receives plenty of affection from his close friends and large family yet he still craves that deeper, more intimate relationship.

Albus’s thoughts stray to Malfoy, and that thwarted kiss from a few weeks ago. They had seen each other a few times since then but Malfoy has been careful to keep a distance between them. Albus has yet to make an other physical move on the older man but has continued giving obvious signals, flamboyant flirting which Malfoy, in turn, has continued to willfully ignore. 

Albus wonders at Malfoy’s resistance and what the root of it might be. It’s clear that he is attracted to Albus, that there is some spark between the two, but Malfoy is incredibly disciplined and draws a clear line every time. Albus has to admit he’s a bit surprised; he assumed Malfoy was a devious man who would jump at the opportunity of claiming a young lover. He’s starting to realise Malfoy isn’t exactly the man he expected. He’s intelligent and witty, with a dry, biting humour that lacks the cruelty Albus anticipated. He’s certainly more attractive than Albus first had thought, passing glimpses throughout the years hadn’t lent much to the image Albus has now seen up close and personal.

Draco is tall and all lean muscle with delicate pale skin, gently lined in a way that expresses character rather than age. His eyes are striking; greyish blue with specks of gold, always sharp and attentive. Albus is surprised to find the silvery-grey edges at Malfoy’s temples sexier than he would have imagined. He wonders if his hair is as soft as it looks, how it might feel running through his fingers. 

It appears Albus won’t need any assisting potions if they ever do make it to the bedroom, which feels more and more unlikely each day. Albus supposes he will have to try again tomorrow when he visits the Manor once more to study the berberis vulgaris shrubs. Albus squashes the fluttering in his stomach as his anticipation for the next day grows. Malfoy’s berberis collection is rather remarkable, it’s only natural Albus would be excited to see it. He can’t allow himself to be distracted from his goal, regardless of the complicated feelings arising in his heart.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus arrives early the next day, ushered into the sitting room by a house elf and informed Malfoy will be joining him shortly. He’s about to settle into his usual chair when he hears voices down the hall and his curiosity takes over. Albus stealthily follows the noise, stopping short of Malfoy’s study where the door is partially open. He peeks from behind the door and sees Malfoy fire-calling with his ex-wife Astoria. Albus has a quick pang of guilt about eavesdropping before he pushes it aside, pressing his ear against the door.

“And Jonathan is well?” Malfoy asks politely.

“Yes, he’s expanding his vineyard for the season so we plan to travel to Italy next month,” Astoria replies. “And how about you?”

“Am I well?” Malfoy inquires. “I’ve been fine.”

“What about your love life?” Astoria asks coyly. “Scorpius has mentioned you’ve been spending time with that Potter boy.”

“Albus?” Malfoy scoffs. “Nothing is going on there, we’ve just struck up a friendly acquaintance.”

“That’s it?” Astoria murmurs disbelievingly. 

“Well.” Malfoy sighs deeply. “He’s a bit of a flirt and has made a pass at me now and then but it’s just youthful indiscretion.”

“Is that so?”

“Astoria,” Malfoy warns.

“What?” Astoria asks innocently.

“He’s far too young,” Malfoy says sternly.

“Oh, please,” Astoria scoffs, “Brandon was younger as well.”

“There is a very big difference between seven years and a twenty plus year gap. He’s the same age as Scorpius for Merlin’s sake…” Malfoy trails off before continuing softly, “I don’t want him to get mixed up with someone like me.”

“You have to forgive yourself eventually, darling,” Astoria gently responds.

“There are some parts of the past that can’t be erased,” Malfoy replies bitterly. “I’m content in my solitude.”

“I’m sure you are,” Astoria taunts.

“I won’t see him get hurt,” Malfoy retorts resolutely. “I refuse to let that happen.”

“You care about him…” Astoria states softly.

“I’m going to go,” Malfoy responds shortly. “I have… company waiting.”

“Draco—”

Astoria’s words are cut off as the Floo whooshes. Albus stumbles back into the hallway, his heart beating so fast it feels as if it could burst from his chest. Malfoy’s words play over and over in his head as he turns around and flees the Manor, a sick feeling twisting in his stomach.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus orders another drink from the bartender, sipping desolately on the last dregs of his watered down cocktail as he sits in a shadowed corner of the bar. His head has been a right mess since the other week when he overhead Malfoy’s conversation with his ex-wife. He Apparated straight home, panic rising in his throat as he locked himself in his room, fighting to steady his breath. Albus had quickly scribbled a note cancelling their meeting for the day, feigning sickness. He’s avoided Malfoy since then—ignoring his owl expressing well wishes and speedy recovery from his sudden illness—and refused to reschedule. The words he overheard that day still echo inside his head, despite his urgent attempts to push them away. Does Malfoy really care about him? Sure the older man has been polite enough, and fairly generous with his time, but Albus has only been met with resistance everytime he makes a move. Discovering the real reason why Malfoy might be pushing him away is a shock, the deeper implications something that Albus is not ready to face. How could Malfoy believe him to be so innocent, something delicate that needs to be preserved, when in reality Albus been plotting this entire time?

Albus just needs some time, that’s all. He needs to refocus, recall why he got himself into this mess in the first place. His family is the most important thing in the world to him and no rising attraction to Malfoy will change that. Albus needs to remember that this is for his family’s sake, his precious loved ones who have suffered such pain from this man, that must keep him pushing forward. And yet despite his intentions, everything has become muddled, his mind a chaotic sea, unpredictable and ever changing.

The fates must have it out for Albus, because just as the bartender sets his drink down, Malfoy enters and takes a seat at the other end of the bar.

_Merlin._

He looks incredible, of course. Albus never sees Malfoy in such casual clothing; straight legged slate trousers and a fitted short sleeved shirt, the material clinging to his lean muscles. Albus’s mouth goes dry and he takes a generous drink from his cocktail, eyeing Malfoy from the shadows. 

It’s not long before the other patrons take notice of Malfoy and a handsome dark haired gentleman approaches him. Albus watches anxiously, envy curling in the pit of his stomach, as the man chats Malfoy up, leaning close into his personal space. Malfoy smiles in return, his eyes glowing with merriment, but when the the other man whispers something into his ear, Malfoy merely shakes his head and turns back to his drink. The stupidly attractive gentleman walks away, disappointment written across his face, and all Albus can feel is a rush of relief.

Albus isn’t sure how long he observes him from his dark corner but it’s certainly a few drinks later when Malfoy stands and heads towards the loo. Malfoy sways a bit as he walks, clearly he’s been drinking strong cocktails himself, and Albus is all but compelled as he gets up and follows Malfoy.

The loo is dim and rather dingy for such a posh bar, the air thick and smelling of cigarettes. Malfoy is just re-zipping his flies when Albus enters, the door loudly swinging shut behind him causing Malfoy to glance over his shoulder. Albus watches as realisation dawns on Malfoy’s face, eyes sharpening with recognition.

“Albus,” Malfoy mumbles, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you.” The words slip from Albus’s mouth.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow in response, his cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glazed. It’s clear he’s rather drunk and Albus can’t imagine a better opportunity than now.

“How long—” 

Malfoy’s words are cut off with Albus’s lips, his mouth open, wet and hot as he pries into Malfoy’s mouth with his tongue. Malfoy melts into the kiss, returning it fervently before he takes a startled breath and pushes Albus away.

“No, Albus,” Malfoy protests, hands pressed against Albus’s chest.

“Yes,” Albus murmurs dropping to his knees, too drunk to care about the filthy, sticky floor.

He rubs his face against Malfoy’s trouser-covered cock, relishing in how delightfully hard he is. Merlin, it feels so big and thick, Albus’s mouth waters at the thought of wrapping his lips around him. Malfoy’s hands drop to the top of Albus’s shoulders as if to push him away again, but they merely grip tightly instead, fingers pressing firmly into his skin.

“You can’t,” Malfoy gasps as Albus nudges his nose along the hard ridge, voice cracking as he fights a losing battle.

Albus can smell Malfoy’s arousal through his thin trousers, the scent causing his stiff cock to throb in sympathy. He reaches for Malfoy’s flies when the bathroom door swings open and Malfoy quickly comes back to himself, shoving Albus away as a drunk man enters and stumbles to the urinal. Albus reaches out towards Malfoy but he steps away, eyes wild as he moves past Albus and races out the of the loo. 

_Fuck._ Albus rises to his feet and charges into the stall, locking the door behind him. He unzips his trousers and pulls his leaking prick out, stroking urgently as he rests his head against the cool stall door. He closes his eyes, tugging roughly on his cock, imagining just how delicious Malfoy would have tasted, how perfect the heavy weight of his prick would have felt in his mouth. Albus trembles as his releases rushes from him, spurts of sticky come coating his hand. He casts a quick cleaning spell and sits on the lid of the toilet, his head dropping into his hands as he wonders how things got so messed up.

{}-{}-{}-{}

“Come on, Teddy,” James whines. “Let’s go out tomorrow night.”

“I already told you, I can’t.” Teddy rolls his eyes as he ruffles James’s hair.

“I’m leaving in a few weeks to go on tour again,” James pouts, blinking owlishly at Teddy. “Don’t you want to spend as much time with me as you can?”

Albus chuckles at James’s antics, watching him cosy up to Teddy from the hallway as he removes his shoes.

“I told you, you’re welcome to join me.” Teddy smirks in response.

“Yeah,” James sneers, “And I told you I have no interest in going to Draco bloody Malfoy’s birthday party.

The name sends a sharp bolt into Albus’s chest as he makes his way into the living room.

“It’s Draco’s birthday?” Albus asks casually.

“Draco, is it?” James inquires with a raised eyebrow.

“Malfoy, whatever,” Albus mutters, sinking down onto the sofa.

“Yes,” Teddy replies, “Theo came up with the idea to throw him a little thing at the Manor tomorrow evening, even though Draco hates parties.”

“Is it invite only, or…” Albus trails off.

“Why do you ask?” Teddy favours Albus with a knowing smile.

“I don’t know,” Albus looks away at the floor. “Maybe I’ll stop by or something.”

“Why would you want to go to that slimy bastard’s party?” James scoffs. 

“He’s not a bastard,” Albus snaps in reply.

“Oh, sorry,” James raises his hands facetiously, “I forgot you two are all close now.”

“We aren’t that close,” Albus mutters, discomfort racing through his veins.

“Hey,” Teddy says softly. “You’re welcome to come along. The more the merrier.”

Albus nods, ignoring Teddy’s kind smile and James’s suspicious glares as he steels his heart and sets his mind to getting back on track. This might be his last chance to make a move as, quite honestly, Albus isn’t sure how much more of this confusing anguish he can take.

{}-{}-{}-{}

The party has all but died down, only a handful of guests remain, laughing drunkenly as they stumble through the gardens. Albus lights a fire in Draco’s study, extinguishing the rest of the lights and slowly begins to remove his clothing.

Draco didn’t seem overly surprised to see Albus at the party, though he only favoured him with a terse greeting and spent the rest of the night avoiding him. Albus watched him throughout the party, sipping fine wine from a crystal glass, as Draco chatted happily with his friends, moving about and giving Albus a wide berth. Now and then their eyes would lock across the room and Albus would catch the barely suppressed desire burning in them before Draco would swiftly look away.

Albus pulls off his pants, his cock already half hard, as he positions himself next to Draco’s desk. He’s seen Draco disappear into his study several times tonight, taking breaks from his social obligations. There are several rings on the desk where he has set down his drink, forgoing a coaster, and allowing the condensation of his cool glass to drip into the wood. Albus idly traces a ring with his finger, his body shivering despite the blazing heat of the fire, wondering when Draco will arrive again.

Luckily for Albus the wait is not too long. It’s clear that Draco, despite his charming facade, is not entirely comfortable around large groups of people, and enjoys escaping the festivities whenever he can. Draco closes the door to his study and breathes a sigh of relief as he lets his posture relax. He soon tenses again when he turns around, the drink he’s holding slipping from his fingers and spilling onto the plush, carpeted floor.

“Albus,” Draco sutters out, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him.

“Hello, Draco.”

Albus’s voice is soft and velvety as he leans against the desk, completely nude. The flickering flames cast shadows over Draco’s face, his cheekbones sharp and angles of his body vivid even through his fine suit. His skin glows by the light of the fire and, judging by the look on his face, Albus can only imagine what sort of effect the crackling flames are having on his own, entirely naked body. Draco’s eyes, consumed by lust, wander over every inch of his body, mouth slightly parted as his breathing becomes shallow.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” Albus says smoothly, despite his pounding heart. “How do you like your present?”

Draco remains silent, eyes dark as his feet slowly move, step by step until he is standing right in front of Albus. His pupils are blown wide, face flushed and body swaying towards Albus as if against his will. Slender fingers meet Albus’s face, softly tracing his jawline, moving down towards his neck, pressing against his rapidly beating pulse. 

The lines are completely blurred now, faded away as Albus is overcome with how badly he wants the man before him. Draco’s hand glides over his shoulder, fingers dancing along his spine until they reach the base of his back, stopping right at the curve of his arse. Draco inhales sharply and pulls his hand away and steps back.

“Get dressed.”

“Draco…”

“Please.” Draco’s voice is strained, ready to break.

“Why are you fighting this?” 

“It’s for your sake,” Draco pleads desperately. “Don’t you understand?”

Albus reaches out, but is only met with air as Draco takes another step back, turns around and storms out of his study. Albus stares miserably at the shut door for a few moments before he snatches his discarded clothing off the floor. He dresses rapidly with shaking hands, something deep and dark breaking inside.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Sunday dinner at the Burrow is chaotic, as always, and Albus finds himself fading into the background, allowing the overflowing conversation and laughter to wash over him as he observes in stolid silence. It’s been a couple of weeks since Draco’s party and Albus has been riddled with disconcerting emotions and inexplicable grief. Draco’s rejection cut deeply and Albus worries he shattered something delicate, something significant he didn’t even fully realise he wanted. He plays with his pudding listlessly, waving off Hugo’s invitation for the pick up Quidditch game they are organizing in the backyard, before making his way out front to the porch. Albus sits and watches the sky turn to dusk, fighting to push away the usual thoughts and worries that have been clawing at him.

“Alright, Al?”

Albus is startled from his daze as his dad takes a seat next to him, clapping his hand over his shoulder.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Why are you out here all by yourself?”

“Just wanted some quiet.” Albus shrugs, watching as Lily emerges from the side of the house, joyfully shrieking as she is chased by a giggling Rose.

“Yeah, I can’t say I blame you.” Dad chuckles softly. “We are a bit of a rowdy bunch.”

Rose finally catches Lily, the two collapsing under a tree as they burst into playful laughter.

“Rose seems quite happy lately,” Dad remarks. “You think it has anything to do with that Scorpius boy?”

“Scorpius? No… I don’t think so, at least. I think they’re just friends.”

“Hmm,” Dad hums as he absentmindedly nods to Albus’s response.

“Why?” Albus asks cautiously. “Do you have a problem with that? What with Scorpius being a Malfoy and all?”

“Huh?” Dad asks. “Why should I?”

“Well, you know…” Albus trails off. “He’s Draco Malfoy’s son. I know Malfoy has caused all kind of problems for the family. He basically tormented you all throughout school.”

“You’ve been hanging around Ron too much.” Dad laughs heartily. “Yeah, he was a bit of a git when he was younger and he made some terrible mistakes, but many of us have. It’s not easy to let those things go, but I imagine Malfoy struggles with the same haunted memories we all do.”

“Have you let it go?” Albus asks.

“As much as I can,” Dad replies. “Forgiveness is important. Not just for the other person involved, but most of all for our own peace.”

Albus glances at his father, his eyes unfocused and expression far away as he no doubt reflects upon the past. Harry shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he stretches his legs and stands up.

“Anyway, there’s no need to weigh yourself down with such heavy thoughts.” Dad ruffles Albus’s hair and heads back into the house.

Albus turns his attention towards the sky again, watching the stars slowly rise against the faded blue horizon, his father’s words swirling in his head.

{}-{}-{}-{}

Albus scribbles an owl a few days later asking to visit Draco at the Manor once again. He casually writes that he misses the gardens (wondering how blatantly clear it is that it’s actually the man he misses) and would love to come by and take some more notes. Albus is surprised by how quickly he receives a reply, informing him that Draco is free the next day if he would like to visit.

Albus was certain Draco would blow him off after their last encounter and he didn’t anticipate how full of absolute anticipation he would be as he walks through the gates. Draco answers the door, looking gorgeous and just as nervous as Albus is. He forgoes inviting Albus inside, instead leading him directly the gardens, winding through the paths without speaking, the silence uncomfortable and thick. 

“Well, then,” Draco finally speaks as they arrive at the mahonia, “I’ll just leave you to it.”

“Wait,” Albus calls out, grabbing Draco’s hand as he turns to leave. “Stay.”

Draco’s expression is pained, he looks utterly stricken as he shakes his head and tries to pull his hand free. Albus won’t let him go that easily. He tugs on Draco’s hand, pulling him closer until Draco’s body falls against his. Draco’s eyes are wide and bottomless as they gaze into Albus’s before they flutter closed and he, at last, surrenders.

Albus tentatively presses his lips against Draco’s, the soft touch sending tingles down Albus’s spine. Draco’s mouth gently moves against his before he releases a low groan, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. Oh Merlin, it feels so good already, and it’s only a bloody kiss. Draco’s tongue is hot and wet in his mouth, his lips soft and eager, slender hands sinking into Albus’s thick hair to pull him closer.

Albus presses his body against Draco, moaning as his hard prick rubs against Draco’s, the thick length warm and promising. It feels almost surreal; Draco’s firm hands roaming over his body, cupping his arse, breathing heavily into his mouth as he bites and licks his way inside.

Draco takes a step back and Albus groans with the loss of contact. The sun burns brightly in the sky, his pale hair shining and eyes glittering in the light, but it’s rather cool in the shade of the tall evergreen shrubs. Albus fears Draco has come to his senses, that he will send him away, but he merely unbuttons his shirt, eyes on Albus the entire time. His face is flushed and expression determined, eyes drowning in lust as they remain locked on Albus.

Albus fumbles with his own shirt, tugging it over his head, breathless as he watches Draco undress right in front of him. He’s utterly gorgeous; long limbs, slender muscles, pale skin that glows in the warmth of the summer sun. Albus follows his lead, undressing with trembling hands, body pulsing with unrelenting need. He stumbles forward, gaze drawn to the impressive bulge in Draco’s pants, as he toys with the elastic band, teasing and tempting Albus. It’s too much and Albus drops to his knees, pulling the pants down and getting a quick glance at that perfect cock before he lowers his mouth. 

Fuck, Draco tastes just as good as he looks. His prick is heavy and warm in his mouth, salty bursts of pre-come landing on his tongue. Albus swallows him down, hand pressing against his own cock as it throbs sympathetically in the constraints of his pants.

“Yes, Albus,” Draco pants, hands sinking into his hair. “Fuck, just like that.”

Merlin, this is really happening. Albus can feel tears of gratitude pricking his eyes, heart pounding and chest ready to explode at the realisation. He hardly knew how much he really, truly wanted this until now. Until he was on his knees, sucking Draco for all he’s worth, palming his own prick, certain he could come easily from this alone.

“So, good,” Draco moans as Albus swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. “Fuck, you’ll make me come like this.”

But no, that won’t do. Albus wants, no, he needs more.

“Not yet.” Albus pulls off Draco’s cock, ignoring Draco’s groan of protest. “I want you to fuck me.”

Draco’s eyes flash darkly, his pupils blown wide, mouth parted as he nods his head in agreement.

“Yes.”

Albus removes his pants, watching the way Draco’s eyes appraise him approvingly, staring at his flushed cock. A shudder of want passes through his body, completely on display for the man before him.

“How do you want me?” Albus asks.

“On your hands and knees,” Draco directs, voice low and harsh. Albus complies, feeling the soft grass beneath his hands, arse raised towards Draco. “Yes, like that. Exactly like that.”

Albus starts when he feels Draco’s hands touch his shoulder blades, fingertips trailing down his spine much like they did in his study those weeks past. Albus holds his breath as Draco’s hand reaches the swell of his arse and, instead of pulling away, slides down, thumbs grazing along his crack.

“Please,” Albus whispers.

Draco mutters a spell and a moment later Albus feels slick fingers teasing his hole before pressing inside. It burns—it’s been awhile since Albus has done this—but the pain quickly dissipates, overtaken by the intoxicating stretch of Draco’s fingers.

“I’m ready,” Albus pants, pressing his arse back against Draco’s slippery digits. “Fuck me.”

Draco groans in response, the sound of conjured lube slicking his cock filling Albus’s ears, before he lines himself up and presses into Albus.

Oh fuck. Draco’s cock is thick and Albus is consumed by a dull ache as he slides inside, thrusting shallowly as he gains more leverage. Albus releases a soft groan, fingers digging into the grass as he adjusts to the intensity of it all.

“Are you alright?” Draco’s worried voice murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of Albus’s ear.

“Yes.” Albus replies, heat spreading through his chest at Draco’s concern. “I’m perfect.”

“Yes,” Draco responds, thrusting deeper into Albus. “Yes, you are.”

Fuck, it really, truly is perfect. Draco sets a relentless pace, moving with long, purposeful strokes, filling Albus to the brim with his thick cock. Albus has never felt like this before, so utterly fulfilled, and he arches back into Draco, eagerly taking his prick deeper inside. Draco is murmuring soft, incomprehensible words, hands gliding underneath Albus and teasing his sensitive nippes, rubbing reverently over his chest and stomach.

“Touch me,” Albus cries, his neglected prick desperate for friction. “Please.”

Draco’s hips snap forward, increasing his pace, as his hand slides further south and wraps around Albus’s leaking cock. Albus releases a hiss as Draco’s thumb spreads the pre-come pooling at the tip, using it to effortlessly slide his hand up and down Albus’s shaft. The sensation is maddening, it’s brilliant, it’s everything and Albus can feel his release approaching. Judging by the harsh groans and erratic thrusts behind him, Draco is not too far off either.

The heat from Draco’s body spreads into Albus, consuming and devouring him whole. He can hardly tell where Draco ends and he begins and a rush of emotion bubbles in his chest and rises up his throat. How did he not realise it would be like this? This aching and nearly painful perfection? This intelligent, skillful, witty, gorgeous man pounding into him, surrounding him with pleasure and kindness and everything… and oh fuck, Albus loves him. He’s so stupidly, ridiculously in love with Draco, it feels as if his heart could burst from his chest.

It’s the sudden and unexpected realisation that pushes him over the edge and with a harsh, broken cry he’s coming, spilling himself all over Draco’s hand and onto the grass below him.

“Oh, Albus.” Draco’s ruts fiercely against him. “Fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so damned perfect.”

Draco presses into him fully, stilling his strokes as he releases a ragged groan, cock throbbing as it empties itself into Albus. His body trembles as he collapses against Albus’s back, his sweat-slicked chest rubbing against Albus’s skin. They remain like that, catching their breath, only the sound of insects buzzing happily from plant to plant filling the heavy silence. Eventually Draco pulls out gently, collapsing next to Albus and covering his face with his hands.

“Draco,” Albus begins softly. “I—”

“Fuck,” Draco groans, his voice full of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Albus. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“What? No, but I wanted—”

“It was a mistake, we—”

“No! It wasn’t. Draco, I—”

“It was.” Draco leaps to his feet, grabbing his clothing and re-dressing frantically. “It’s my fault, I’m so sorry. I’m the older one, I should have had more self control.”

“Draco,” Albus pleads. “I wanted this… and so did you. You can’t deny that.”

“You’re too young to know what you want. I should have held back, I should have restrained myself.” Draco’s eyes are full of guilt and shame, the pleasurable flush from earlier all but faded away. “This path only leads to heartbreak.”

“Draco!” Albus calls out, scrambling to his feet as Draco stalks out of the garden, his shoulders rigid with tension.

Draco ignores his cries, disappearing among the camphor trees and out of sight. Albus’s heart shatters as he collapses back onto the ground, laying on the cool summer grass in impassive misery for some time before he finally makes his way back home.

{}-{}-{}-{}

“What’s got you in such a funk?”

Albus peers up from yet another returned, unopened owl to find James leaning over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Albus mutters.

“Malfoy Manor?” James reads. “You sure are sending a lot of letters to that Malfoy git.”

“Don’t call him that,” Albus grinds out.

“Oh come on, Al,” James scoffs. “You used to love joining in with me when we tore that slimy wanker apart.”

“Well things change!” Albus shouts, shooting to his feet, the unopened letters spilling to the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, Al,” James asks worriedly, “What’s going on?”

“I fucked everything up.” Albus collapses back into the chair, his head sinking into his hands. “It’s all gone wrong, Jamie.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.” James crouches to the ground and takes Albus’s hand in his.

Albus looks down into James’s face, sees the concern lacing his eyes and stifles a sob. How did everything get so messed up? Draco hasn’t spoken to him in weeks, all his owls return unopened, each one another painful stab straight to his chest. Albus has been overwhelmed with remorse; horrified by his own nefarious plots and ill intentions as well as the guilt he has caused Draco. He wanted the older man so badly, still wants him, he didn’t even think about how his actions might have affected Draco.

“Listen, Al.” James interrupts him from his troublesome thoughts. “Why don’t you just go to the Manor yourself? Talk to him face to face?”

“You want me to go to Draco?” Albus asks, disbelievingly.

“I just want you to be happy, Al,” James sighs, raising his hand to ruffle Albus’s hair. “You deserve to be happy.”

Albus heart warms and fills with affection for his older brother. They may have had their differences over the years, but James has always been there for him when Albus needed him the most. James gives him a kind smile and then rises back his feet, stretching and making his way to the fridge.

“For now though, how about a beer?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“And put those letters away. I bet I can find a an old pack of exploding snap for us to play with.”

“What are we twelve?” Albus laughs.

“Come on, it will be fun.” James hands Albus an open beer, taking a long sip from his own. “Bet you’ve never played drunk before.”

Albus chuckles and follows James into the living room. They drink into the night, playing various school games and reminiscing about their Hogwart days. The ache doesn’t fully go away—nor does he completely forget about Draco—but the distraction is much appreciated as Albus blearily smiles at his brother, cackling as their house of cards explodes and collapses once again.

{}-{}-{}-{}

The next day he knocks on Draco's door resolutely, if not a little hung over, ready to confess everything and tell Draco exactly how he feels. He wipes his sweaty palms against his trousers, willing the nerves away when a house elf opens the door.

“Hello. I… is Draco home?”

“Master Malfoy is away, out of the country for a few weeks.”

“Oh.” Albus’s heart drops in disappointment. “Do you know when he’ll be coming back?”

“Sorry, Sir! Master is not telling Tilly when he will return.”

“I see.” Albus’s brow furrows. “What about his gardens?”

“Tilly and the others is taking care of it. Master left very good instructions.”

“I’ll help!” Albus offers.

“We is having it under control, Sir.”

“Please,” Albus pleads, “I’d really like to help.”

The house elf nods uncertainly and Albus favours her with a wide smile, taking off immediately towards the gardens. If he can’t see Draco right away, he can at least see and care for his gardens. Albus swallows around the painful lump in his throat, pushing away the traitorous thought that Draco may never want to see him again.

The bluebeard shrubs have grown magnificently since his last visit. His fingers brush against the flowers, the petals like velvet against his skin, vivid memories of Draco’s hot body pressed against his flashing through his mind. Albus closes his eyes and he can almost taste Draco in his mouth, recall the fullness of Draco inside of him, the overwhelming need that swept through his body.

Albus shakes his head clear of those memories, adjusting a few temperature charms on the lamiaceae plot, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that everything isn’t quite ruined just yet.

{}-{}-{}-{}

The sweet roots have given Albus the most difficulty of all the plants in Draco’s garden. Despite his intense training and travels, p. glycyrrhiza have proven to be a difficult species to care for and Albus finds himself visiting everyday to ensure the proper conditions are set for its growth and survival.

Summer has nearly faded into autumn and Albus delights in the minute changes through the various plants in the garden as the season turns over. He gazes longingly at an anemone bud, wondering when this particular species might bloom, when he hears a voice behind him.

“Tilly told me I might find you here.”

 _Draco._ Albus’s shoulders freeze and he turns around slowly, breath caught in his throat as he takes in the man before him. He looks incredible. Draco clearly went away somewhere with a lot of sun; his hair is even lighter, bleached nearly white, and his skin glows with a lovely tan, all golden and smooth. Draco offers Albus a small smile, but but his eyes look nervous and Albus spots the dark circles beneath them he didn’t notice before.

“You’re back.” Albus swallows nervously.

“I am.” Draco shifts anxiously. “Thank you for tending the gardens in my absence.”

“Of course! It was the least I could do…”

“I shouldn’t have left like that, without a word, without a real explanation.” Draco sighs and takes a step closer to Albus. “The truth is, I don’t handle intimacy very well. I never have. And then you come along, and just crash into my life, worm your way inside and… Well, honestly, I’m terrified of you. Kid that you are...”

“I’m not _that_ young,” Albus protests.

Draco chuckles softly in response. “You know, I’ve had my fair share of relationships in the past. Some deep friendships, fleeting lovers and passing infatuations, but I’ve never dealt with this before.”

“What is that?” Albus asks, taking a step towards him.

“This ridiculous, frightening, intense love,” Draco states closing the distance.

Their mouths meet in the middle and Albus groans into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck and pulling him closer. Pieces of Albus break deep inside, only to be knitted back together, a most pleasurable pain rising in his chest as Draco’s mouth moves against his. He smells like sunshine and earth and Albus inhales deeply as he moves his lips over Draco’s jaw and neck, nipping and licking his way to Draco’s exposed collarbone.

“I want you so badly,” Draco murmurs, hands firmly gripping Albus’s hips, pulling him close until the two of them are flush against each other.

“Then take me.” Albus grins cheekily, sliding his foot between Draco’s legs and pulling them both to the ground, tumbling on top of each other on the soft grass.

Draco cups Albus’s face with his hands, eyes molten silver as they gaze deeply into Albus’s, before lowering his face and capturing his lips in a fervent kiss.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Draco mumbles against his mouth. “I just know it.”

“But isn’t this a pleasant way to die?” Albus arches up, his hard cock rubbing against Draco’s own hardening prick.

“Prat,” Draco mutters, rocking back against Albus.

Albus feels ready to burst already; the heavy weight of Draco’s body pressed against his own, the pressure against his cock, the heat building between the two, it’s far too much.

Draco’s hand moves between them, making quick work of their flies and pulling out both of their hard pricks. 

“Yes, yes,” Albus hisses as Draco wraps his hand around both of them and begins to tug.

The friction is delicious; Draco’s hot prick rubbing against his, only slightly slick from the steady stream of pre-come dripping from Albus’s desperate cock. Albus reaches out, his hand wrapping over Draco’s and they stroke together. The pace is slightly off, it’s messy and quick, but Albus devours every second of it. Draco’s slightly parted mouth, his eyes tightly squeezed shut, the gorgeous flush spreading across his face. Pleasure rises through Albus and he cries out, cock pulsing as he spills himself all over their joined hands.

Draco increases the speed of his strokes but Albus slaps his hands away. Ignoring the confused expression on Draco’s face, he pushes Draco off of him and reverses their positions. Albus offers Draco a heated look before moving down his body, lowering his mouth over Draco’s prick and swallowing him whole.

“Oh, fuck,” Draco groans, hands falling to his side, fingers digging into the grass.

Albus wraps his lips around the shaft, bobbing his head steadily and sucking fiercely as Draco babbles incoherent words.

“Albus!” Draco’s hips buck and his thighs tense as come floods Albus’s mouth.

Albus swallows all he can, but a bit spills from his mouth, a thin trail dripping from his lips. Albus sits back up, straddling Draco, and Draco’s hand reaches out, his thumb smooth against Albus’s chin as he swipes away the stickiness. Albus feels a renewed wave of want shudder through him as Draco favours him with a sly smile before pressing his thumb into his mouth, sucking away his own come.

Albus moves off of Draco, collapsing next to him and they lay on the grass in silence, arms just barely touching, their faces turned up towards the sky. Albus can feel a tension sneaking into his body, his chest tight as he wonders how Draco might react this time. He’s not certain he can handle Draco leaving him again.

Draco turns to face him and Albus releases a sigh of relief when he finds the other man’s eyes soft and his expression open.

“You know.” Draco reaches over and pulls a leaf out of Albus’s hair. “We really should try this in a bed sometime.”

Albus chuckles softly, before his expression sobers and he moves closer to Draco.

“Draco,” Albus begins, “I’m so sorry.”

“Isn’t that my line? What do you have to apologise for?”

“A lot of things,” Albus protests earnestly. “I misjudged you and my intentions, well my intentions were—”

Draco quiets him with a finger, lightly pressing it against Albus’s lips before tenderly tracing his mouth.

“It’s in the past, let’s leave it there. I’m ready to move on.”

“Yes,” Albus nods, grabbing Draco’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “So am I.”

There is no real way to ever forget the pains and regrets of the past, Albus is starting to learn that. But, as he rests his head against Draco’s shoulder, gazing at the beautiful autumnal sky, he’s also realising the future has yet to unfold and it is bright and full of possibilities.

{}-{}-{}-{}

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/33825.html)! ♥


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